


Simmer

by DaturaMoon



Series: Vikings [31]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:49:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27731056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaturaMoon/pseuds/DaturaMoon
Summary: part on my November series on Tumblr
Relationships: Ragnar Lothbrok / Reader
Series: Vikings [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919068
Kudos: 3





	Simmer

There was something mysterious about him. 

No one knew who he was, or where he was going. 

He’d been with your group for 3 days and only spoke when necessary. Despite this, he had one of the most expressive faces you’ve ever seen. 

Upon his arrival he was tired, worn, and dirty. But underneath all the grime you could see his handsomeness. His attractiveness was made more intense by his piercing blue eyes; they were breathtaking.

You were curious about him, more than any other wanderer you’ve encountered. Everyone in your group was searching for something, they just didn’t know what. Maybe he was too. 

A place to call home? A purpose? A sign? 

You ended up here because home didn’t feel like home. So you packed up and left. Unwilling to conform to what was expected of you. 

Seeing the world, encountering new places, new people; that spoke to you. Not motherhood or tending the home. Now here you are, four months later with a group of travelers with their own stories. 

The warmth of the fire sucks the cold right right out of your bones, it’s so hot you start sweating but you don’t care. You welcome the heat. 

You hear the group off of the side talking and drinking and you realize the curious stranger is no longer with the group. 

You turn your head to look for him, to see where he had gone in such a short amount of time. When you turn back to the fire you nearly jump. 

He slowly sits on the rock opposite of you, his blue eyes locked on yours. The look on his face is almost preditory and you feel like you’ve been cornered by a cunning fox or a wolf. 

Your body starts to react in ways you don’t anticipate, having him look at you this way. When he speaks, his accent is unlike any you’ve ever heard: it draws you in deeper. 

“What is your name?” He asks. 

Known for his silence you were surprised he asked, he didn’t seem interested in anyone’s names or where they came from. In fact, over the last few days the group just gave him a nickname, the wolf. 

You part your lips and take your time to answer, “y/n.” 

A sly grin animated his lips as he leaned forward. The beads of sweat from the fire only make him look more dangerous, more forbidden. 

“What a beautiful name, my name is Ragnar.” His grin morphs into a full smile.


End file.
